


Ink Stained wrists and Hearts of Stone

by ADwobbitInDisguise



Series: The Hobbit Wrist Soulmark AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bilbo really tried not to follow them to the quest, F/M, Kiliel Happens, M/M, No beta we die like Durin, Soulmate AU, and there is also Dwalin/Ori, being soulmates won't stop Thorin from being a douche for a bit though, but I promise I'll write fluff, but both are relatively minor, eventually, he failed of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22990660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADwobbitInDisguise/pseuds/ADwobbitInDisguise
Summary: When Bilbo Baggins woke up on that faithful 33rd Morning he surely didn't expect the words on his wrist to speak of fighting, why, he could almost have sworn before all of this that Rosabella and him were soulmates to be, not that any of it mattered now, and neither did they matter almost twenty years later when a bothersome Wizard came to mess up the perfectly comfortable life he had managed to build for himself, or even when a Dwarrow almost destroyed the fine china his mother loved, no, but it did matter when a king came knocking to his door and  saying words Bilbo had almost hoped to never hear, Alas, he knew there was no way out of it, and regardless of what his thoughts were on the matter he knew he would follow the one who spoke the words on his forearm till the day he died, poor Bilbo, I hope he can manage not to die on this endeavor, but well, we'll see[Based on the Writing Prompt "On everybody's 18th birthday, they wake up with a tattoo of what their soulmate will first say to them."]
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, bagginshield - Relationship
Series: The Hobbit Wrist Soulmark AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506440
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Preface

People tend to say that destiny is like a tensed up string, that it will get knotted up but will always follow it’s original flow, but that’s a lie, destiny is messy, less like a string and more like a river, it’s fast, and unkind and if you don’t pay attention it will lead you astray, or that’s what my mother used to say at least, she should know, after all, Tooks have always prided themselves to taking destiny on their own hands, of course, they control everything about destiny except for one thing, a thing no one can change, and all of us are more than aware of.

Words, words etched on our skin, words that upon hearing from that special someone will glow with the light of a thousand stars, the words we all ache to hear, the words we reunite every year under the party tree for, the words I find myself doubting I’ll actually ever hear.

After all, what respectable Hobbit would actually follow the hints the ink-like words on my forearm talk about, no one would, and when they appeared I promised myself even if I felt them glow, the warm heat all whom I’ve met talk of, I would not remain with the one that speaks them.

After all, the answer to the question was answered the second it appeared, and no, 

_**I had never done much fighting.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!!! or at least the preface, I am thrilled to start writing this and I hope you all will like it too!!
> 
> -Allen


	2. Bothersome Wizards and Smoke Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herbal Tea runs out, Bilbo Reminisces and Gandalf makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings, nor any of it's related works, all credit goes to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson and anyone else involved with the books or movies, this is merely a work of fiction made from the love I carry for the story and characters, because believe me, if I was the original writer the line of Durin would still be alive.

It had been a warm morning that day, it had been warm all spring to be fair but, that particular morning Bilbo seemed to have felt the warm soaking his bones much better than any other day, almost as if the world itself was telling him to prepare for something, for what? He did not know.

Not that he was truly wondering about the why, at this very moment his only concern was the fact that he has ran out of his favorite tea, he would have to ask Hamfast if the flowers he used in it had bloomed yet, but that could wait, for now he would drink that last cup of belladonna and vanilla tea his mother and him enjoyed, not a surprise by any means either, as his mother was named Belladonna herself, and hobbits being immune to most poisons and venoms allowed them to enjoy the sweet taste that belladonna berries carried within them.

While preparing his tea he thought of his mother, he was always reminded of her when he made tea, so he thought of her, of the constant smell of herbs that clung to her clothes after one of her travels, of the curls on her hair that she inherited to him, and for a very brief moment he thought of the bag resting inside a glory box close to the door, his mother had said that if he ever followed her footsteps and went on an adventure he would find the backpack useful, it had been enchanted that backpack so nothing would rot inside and food would keep itself at its best temperature, it was after all the backpack she used when traveling, and despite loving adventures she always liked to keep the comfort of the food his father made close.

But his thoughts strayed from the backpack fast, his tea was ready, and the biscuits that he had taken out of the oven a little while ago had cooled long enough for him to eat them, he wondered briefly where to eat, but ended up deciding on the small table and chairs that laid on the garden, taking his breakfast amongst the flowers was always a good way to start the day.

The Garden was his father’s, he had planted every single flower even if he was not always the one tending to them, after all Bungo Baggins was a busy hobbit, and that meant some days he simply couldn’t give in to his desire of going back to his garden instead of doing the paperwork that being the head of the Baggins family included, or managing the finances of all who lived on the surrounding hills that laid around Bagshot Row and the meadows that surrounded most of the land.

Bilbo understood why he always seemed relaxed on the garden, it was beautiful place, a calm and peaceful place, a place where the paperwork couldn’t follow him like it seemed to do inside his house, and Bilbo had never understood how stressful paperwork could be until he had taken the mantle as head of the Baggins family, but in this garden it all went away chased away by the sounds of bees pollinating flowers and the smells of the brightly colored Irises that laid on the sides of the ground the table was placed always managed to get him on a pleasant mood.

Eating didn’t take him long sadly, but still he thought that the day was far too beautiful to just go inside, so instead he went through the pebble path that surrounded the hills in which his Smial was built upon, and at the very start he found the bench his father and him sat upon when he was younger the days when his mother came back, his father smoking on his pipe and Bilbo too young to smoke accompanied him by reading out loud the poems his mother had brought with her as gifts to him and his father whenever she went to Rivendell, nowadays it was just him on the bench, and even if his father was no longer occupying the place by his side he sat on the same place he always had, except that now he was the one smoking on the old pipe, it was not the one his father had used, but it did look remarkably similar, at least from afar, truly the only difference was the oak leaves that decorated the bottom of the pipe, his mother had put the carving there herself, the pipe had been a gift, all hobbit lads receive one on the day they come of age, much similar to how hobbit lasses received handkerchiefs woven and embroidered by the women of their family, the wealthier families even embroidered theirs with gold or silver string, why his own mother had a most special one, mithril embroidered, only on certain spots of course wealthy as the Tooks were mithril was a very expensive material.

Bilbo let himself reminisce of his childhood, of the years before the winter that took his mother and left his father to wait on the bench he was sitting at for the wife that would not come back from the forest and up the road no longer, but Bilbo tried to forget all about those remaining years after his mother’s passing in which his father seemed to become 10 years older per day, the prematurely white hairs that covered the once dark curls his father had prided himself on, yes, it had been truly sad days, and the house had felt so cold some nights he could swear that the wretched winter was back, but no, it was just him, his father hadn’t lasted too long after his mother’s passing barely making it to the year after Bilbo came of age, and then, withering away in his sleep, with a peaceful expressing and one hand holding the pearls Belladonna used to wear, they had been a wedding gift, and Bilbo had him returned to the earth with them on his hands.

While Bilbo remembered those wonderful summers of his childhood he started blowing Smoke rings, he hadn’t a need to watch them, he knew their shape was perfect, he had practiced to try and make them from the second he got his pipe after all, of course that he did have to open his eyes when he felt a small cloud of smoke settle upon his nose and made him look at the man in front of him.

He was old, and he seemed older the longer he looked at him, a silver beard so long he could probably have tied it to the belt around his waist, he wore pointed hat on the same hue of gray-blue the rest of his clothes excluding the gray scarf he wore under his beard were, the robes looking worn from many travels looked big on him, but that could just be because he was hunched forward on the long wooden staff he held on his hands.

They looked at each other for a few seconds before Bilbo spoke “Good morning”.  
The Old man answered almost immediately “What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on? Hm?” Bilbo was surprised by this answer, or perhaps answers? Regardless he shook himself of his stupor and told him a simple “All of them at once, I suppose” only receiving a ‘Hmm’ in exchange.

Silence reigned strong once again the old man looking around and Bilbo looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute, it was getting late, and he had to go back inside so he asked the main question “Can I help you?”  
But the old man only answered cryptically “That remains to be seen. I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Well, that didn’t answer any questions, matter of fact, it opened more, after all, why would someone think a hobbit of all things would go on an adventure, well, he supposed his mother would have, but she had been gone for many years now, so it made no sense.  
“An adventure? No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner.” He said as he walked to his mailbox, taking out letters and other envelopes in order to make himself seem busy and give the hint to the man of going away, an arrangement of “Heh, heh. Mm. Huh. Hmm. Oh. Ah.” Coming out of his mouth with every letter, looking back to the man every few seconds before he said a final “Good Morning” as he began walking back to the door of his smial, only stopping when he heard the old man speak.}

“To think that I should have lived to be "good morninged" by Belladonna Took's son as if I were selling buttons at the door.” The old man’s tone seemed to be of amusement, not that it mattered, after all, what mattered is the fact that this man who looked older than his grandfather knew his mother somehow.  
Still confused Bilbo turned around “Beg your pardon?”  
This seemed to irritate the old man as he spoke “You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” How did this man know his name, he knows for a fact he has not yet presented himself simply because of the fact he would remember the name of the old man in front of him.  
“I'm sorry, do I know you?” Bilbo was confused, although that was obvious just by looking at his face, his face had always been very expressive after all.  
The old man answered regardless “Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf. And Gandalf means... ...Me.” why was the pause necessary Bilbo wondered, regardless the name Gandalf did seem familiar but he hadn’t heard that name since…  
“Gandalf? Not Gandalf the wandering Wizard... ...who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve.” It was a ridiculous question of course, even if he didn’t remember Gandalf in his entirety he was sure of one thing, he was already plenty old when he was on those parties, and Bilbo was barely a faunt back then, it wasn’t possible the man was still alive.

“No idea you were still in business.” Alive, he meant alive, it just wasn’t possible.  
“And where else should I be?” well…  
“Where else...?” back on the soil perhaps? Not that he would actually say that outloud, no, that wouldn’t be polite at all “Ahem.”  
“Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me...” he did seem please and yet disappointed somehow “...even if it's only my fireworks. Yes. Well, that's decided. It'll be very good for you” decided? What was decided? Bilbo’s confusion only continued to grow it seems with every sentence this man spoke, “and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

Others? What others? This made him come back down to earth, “Inform the who? What? No. No. No... Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you.” He started walking once again to the bright green door, “Not today. Not...” Ever “I suggest you try Over the Hill or Across the Water.” Dear Yavanna now he really just wanted to go inside, still manners first. “Good morning.” He closed his door with finality and supported his weight on it afterwards, which allowed him to hear strange scratching sound, which weirded out Bilbo on a big measure, still after it stopped Bilbo went to look the path outside his house from the large round window, although he got spooked by the large face that made him stumble and crouch when it too went to look inside through the window before it went away.

And as Bilbo’s heart raced on his chest while he crouched on the wood of his house there was only one word on his mind.

**Weird.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear Valar this took a long time to finish writing, but chapter one is finally here and I hope you all enjoy it, because I sure did enjoy writing it.
> 
> -Allen


End file.
